Unspoken Tragedy
by Roosie
Summary: Unbeknownst to Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital, one doctor is going through a tragedy no one would have expected.
1. Chapter 1

**It's short. But this is only the beginning! I'll reveal the "woman"s name in the next chapter, but until then... guess! :)  
>Disclaimer: I unfortunately don't own anything, except for the dead character - whose name will also be revealed in the next chapter or so! <strong>

**Enjoy!**

In the darkness, you can barely make out the two outlines of people, and you can hardly hear the constant beeping, but it's there. You can however, see that a tragedy is unfolding in front of you. If you get closer, you can hear the ragged breaths of someone who was crying, her nose whistling it her sleep. Her hand is holding on to the person in the bed as if, if she gripped tightly enough no one could take that person away. You know she's been here for a couple days, her clothes are creased and somewhat stained, and her hair is going in every direction. You can faintly see an overnight bag in the corner and what looks like piles of books on the counter. But you know very well that none of it has been touched.

Throughout the last couple of weeks, you haven't seen anyone else walk through those doors. The woman always came with a huge smile, and left with a somber look. You didn't know whether anyone was helping her out, or if she had anyone to lean on, and that was tragic in itself.

You know the case very well. They've been in and out of the hospital for years, and everyone knew this day was going to come, yet no one was prepared for it. They had been given a week, almost a week and a half ago, and four days ago the woman came and hasn't left the persons side since. She sits there day and night with her hand linked to theirs. Sometimes they're quiet, and sometimes you walk by and they're laughing. Today it hadn't been one of those days. The room had been scarily quiet all day. The woman sat on the persons bed, instead of in the chair she was used to, and she closed her eyes. Not to sleep, you knew that, but to beg for another chance, for this not to be happening. But as the day droned on, you could see the lost hope in the woman's eyes and she started to sob.

Later that morning, while it was still dark outside, you're rushed into the room for a code. The woman is no longer crying but now standing in the corner, her eyes wide and her hands covering her mouth. You call time of death at 3.45 am and then leave the room after giving the woman your apologies. You watch as she crawls back onto their bed and holds their hand. You give them a couple hours before going back into the room and painfully telling her she has to say goodbye. The woman watches as the bed is moved out of the room, and as you enter the hallway to the elevator you see her collapse on the floor. After weeks, you can't just let her be alone right now so you walk back into the room and offer your apologies again. She grabs you into a hug and sob into your shoulder.

The woman is still there when you go on your lunch break. No one has had the heart to tell her to get out, so she's been sitting in the empty room, her eyes trained at the wall where the person was. She hadn't moved since you left her there this morning, her face is still stained with tears and her eyes are red but she's stopped crying now. Then, unexpectedly she gets up and walks towards the nurses station and says she can't stay here longer. You help her fill out the paperwork, which brings a few more tears, and walk her to the cab the head nurse had called. You wave goodbye as the cab pulls out of the parking lot, and hope that she's going to be okay.

Over the next few days your mind has wondered over to that woman. The person is still in the hospitals morgue, due to be picked up this afternoon. The funeral is to be held two days from now, and you know that all the nurses and doctors on the case are going. You plan on bringing macaroni and cheese to the woman afterwards, because you know it is her favorite.

It didn't rain the day of the funeral, in fact it was one of the most beautiful days of the year. It was the first hint of spring that New Jersey had gotten since the winter had ended, and so most people thought it was the perfect day for this particular funeral. The body was buried next to a patch of little blue flowers that had just grown out of the cold ground. There were birds chirping happily while the prayer was said, and the song was sung. And then it was over. A pile of flowers were placed on the newly dug ground, and hugs were given out to the distraught woman. You walked up to her last and didn't have to say anything before she pulled you into a hug. The two of you sat there quietly for almost an hour just staring at the patch of ground in front of you. You broke the silence by asking if she wanted you to walk you home, and she just nodded. When you arrived, you led her to the couch and placed the macaroni and cheese on the kitchen counter. You begged her to eat, and take care of herself, and told her to call you if she needed anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, guys - Chapter 2! I got a lot of hits of my last chapter, but 1 review! Reviews make me write faster, so please, if you read this can you leave a message? Sorry about the lack of updates otherwise, I'm at University and it seems like I have exams 24/7! **

**So enjoy this chapter - and please review! If you read closely, I dropped some hints as to who the other mystery character is! **

**- Roosie **

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><p>The mood around her apartment hadn't been very upbeat lately. It had been a week since the funeral and she still couldn't get herself to get up from the couch. Any food in the fridge by now had expired, and the macaroni and cheese had grown cold and probably moldy. Nobody had bothered to come by because they all thought she was on vacation, an idea they had put in their heads before she left. But time was wearing thin, and eventually she would have to go back to work no matter how much she didn't want to. She had two days to put herself together, to make it seem like nothing had happened. A shower would be the first step, and then so would putting on some makeup to cover up her red rimmed eyes and tear stained face. She practically laughed at the idea she would have to get up and live life again, when it didn't seem like she herself could go on. All that was left was a shell of herself. Any emotion she showed, or moves she made were made subconciously, as if she was just watching herself from somewhere else.<p>

It took all her strength to get off of the couch and into the bathroom and even then all she wanted to do was sit on the floor and stare at the wall. A glance at the sink made that idea even better. Sitting there, as if nothing happened, was a bright green toothbrush that had been carelessly thrown onto the edge of the sink. The first thing that pops into her head is the last morning before they went to the hospital and just the thought of it makes her collapse on the floor in sobs again. These thoughts had been stored away, so that she wouldn't have to think about them again, so that she could control her emotions and now they all came flooding in. Anywhere she looked in her apartment was a part of the person she lost and she didn't have the strength to move them just yet. Forgetting the shower, she moved herself back onto the couch and covered herself with the blanket. She pulled the blanket so that it covered her head and just sat in the darkness until the images went away and she couldn't cry anymore. A task that seemed to be getting harder the more she tried.

Work came quicker than she would have liked. Her alarm went off at 5am, and she was meant to be at Princeton-Plainsboro by 7am. The first time the alarm went off she wanted to throw it across the room. It was a constant reminder that life was moving on whether she was prepared for it or not. The second time, she had been staring at the ceiling in numb thought and it interrupted. Now it was smashed against the wall, unfixable. By the time she actually got up from bed, she was late. Not that she actually cared, or even tried to rush to get out the door. Instead, slowly she got up and threw on some clothes. Avoiding the bathroom, and anywhere else that may cause her to break down. When the lock clicked, she found herself closing her eyes. She hadn't left the apartment since coming back from the hospital and it felt weird to be moving around again. But she had to pull herself together and put on her best show face.

The drive to work was uneventful. She had avoided using the radio in case a song they had liked came on and she couldn't control herself. And she took the long way just so she could avoid passing their favorite ice cream parlor. But the rest was just like a normal day. Same parking spot, same elevator ride, and same bright greetings from her coworkers as she walked through the glass doors with a smile on her face.

It was unclear whether they knew something was wrong, and if they did they certaintly didn't show it. She knew that she only real digging would come from House, because no matter what you did to hide it he always knew something was up. From everyone else, she was asked about her vacation.

When House came in, two hours later, he threw folders onto the table and sent people away, but he had stopped her at the door.

"Thirteen," he started slowly, and she knew what was coming. "How was, Montana, was it?"

His blue eyes were wide with curiosity, the kind of curiosity Thirteen had been trying to avoid. "It was fine," she lies through her teeth, visibly shocked to hear her own voice. "Can I go now?"

House throws up his hand as if to say go ahead and Thirteen manages to get out the door without another interrogation. The rest of the day however, she catches glances from House. He's curiousity is obviously growing each second she holds this secret from him. He notices that she's quieter, not speaking once during the deliberation, and that any time she's near her co workers she stares at something far off and doesn't seem to be paying attention.

When House sends them home at the end of the day, he approaches Thirteen again. This time he doesn't start, but rather waits for her to say something. But she's sitting at the table and doesn't seem to understand that it's time for her to go home. House finds Thirteen sitting in the conference room playing with the hem of her shirt and close to tears.

To get her attention House clears his throat and immediately Thirteen jumps and quickly wipes her face hoping that he hadn't noticed. She looks up at him and stares House straight in the eyes, "House, will you just give up already."

His eyebrows raise and a smirk starts to form, "I didn't realize I had anything to give up on."

"You don't," Thirteen recovers from her slip up almost confidently. "Which is why you need to stop."

House doesn't respond, and she knows that's not a good sign. This battle can last for weeks, but Thirteen wasn't going to give up. Today hadn't been a good day, but it had been the first time she'd done anything besides sit on the couch and wallow since it happened. It was only safe to assume that it would get better in time and then these glances and questions would stop. House would get distracted by something else and, uncharacteristically, let go of pursuing her secret.

By the time Thirteen gets back to her apartment she can hardly see through the tears in her eyes. She had accidently passed the elementary school on her way home from work, and it had finished her off. She sat in front her apartment building with her head up against the steering well trying to hold in the hiccups and sops that wouldn't seem to stop coming. Soon the tears turned into anger, at both herself and the what she lost. She pounded her fists against the side of the door until her hand turned red and hurt too much to grip anything. Thirteen wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and curse at the sky for everything that's happened in the past few years. Why did it always seem like she had all the bad luck? Couldn't she just catch a break now and then? Deciding that it was best not to back into the apartment, Thirteen turned the car back on and drove. Originally it had been to just drive around town, but in the end she found herself at near the woods where she often went running. Turning the car off, Thirteen slowly got out and leaned against the car. She was alone and right now that was perfect. Disregarding her lack of work out clothes, she stepped into the woods and walked straight towards a clearing she knew was about half way in. She knew that when she got there, there would be a park bench to sit on and a little pond that she could stare at to clear her head. The woods weren't well lit so when Thirteen got to the bench it was starting to get dark outside and she knew that it would be almost impossible to get back once it did. The 4 mile walk had been enough to clear her head at bit anyway, so defeated she turned to walk back towards her car. Maybe tomorrow, Thirteen decided, she would try and do a run around the trail. It had been months since she's tried, but thought that it might be good to get her anger out.

Once again, as Thirteen was heading home she didn't go in the direction of her apartment. It seemed that after today, she couldn't handle being in here quite yet. The only thing she had done for the past week was cry and dig herself under those bed covers, and it was just something she didn't want to start up again. Instead, Thirteen wanted to forget everything. All the pain and memories needed to go away, and the only way Thirteen knew how to do that was drown them in alcohol. Surely by now Chase and Foreman would be at the bar, so she went to one out of town that she knew they never went to. She sat down at the bar and ordered drinks until her head was spinning and her mind was fuzzy. She would have gone further had it not been for the bartender. He grabbed Thirteen's phone from her and called the first name on the list, a Betsy. When Betsy answered the phone she immediately rushed from work and to the bar. She was still in her scrubs but the worry for Thirteen had overpowered the earlier thoughts of collapsing into bed and sleeping for days. When she got to the bar Remy was slumped over the table in the corner of the bar where the bartender had put her with a big bottle of water. Betsy smiled sweetly and ran over.

"Oh Remy," She mumbled as she picked Thirteen off of the table and threw her arm around her shoulder. "What are you doing to yourself."

Thirteen drunkenly smirked, "Betsy, whatareyou dwoing here?"

"You're drunk," She imformed the small doctor. "I'm going to get you home and we're going to talk about this once you're sober."

Thirteen grumbled and immediately flung herself off of the nurses shoulder. "I don't need anybody twelling me whattodo. I'm fine. I'm awllowed to hwave a drink onceandawhile."

"Remy," Betsy tried her best to get the doctor to look her in the eyes. "You've been through a lot lately, I know, but this is not the way to solve your problems. You can't just let youself go like this, what would Anabelle think? You have to take care of yourself."

At the name, Thirteen became even more livid. "Well Anabelle isn't hwere is she? I have no one now, and if this is how I wwant to spend my time, thenleavemealone."

"You can't do this to yourself Remy," Betsy protested, keeping her voice even and calm. "You're going to get yourself killed."

Thirteen laughed, "Well maybe that's wwwhat I want."

"No you don't," Betsy told Thirteen sadly. "You may feel like that now, but trust me it get's better."

Thirteen face fell, suddenly her thoughts weren't all fuzzy and she was focused. Her stomach lurched, the alcohol taking it's toll her on her body, and she threw up all over her shoes. The memories all came back and she felt like she'd been hit by a truck. "I jwust don't know how toliveanymore."

"Well I can help with that," Betsy walked towards Thirteen and started to lead her out of the bar. "If you need me, I'm just a call away. I don't want to get anymore calls at the hospital telling me what trouble you've been up to, okay?"

Still slightly drunk, Thirteen nodded her head. The alcohol had cleared her head better than walking through the woods had, so for those couple of hours it had been nice to forget and just feel happy for once. She couldn't guarantee that the drinking was going to stop, she was just going to be more careful next time. The rest of the drive home was silent, Thirteen had half fallen asleep, and half fainted on the car door and Betsy was mulling over everything that had happened that night. When they arrived, she walked, or more like dragged, Thirteen up the four flights of stairs to her apartment and tucked her into her bed. It was almost 3am by the time Betsy left the apartment, and all she wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep. She couldn't help but wonder whether Thirteen would keep her promise, or whether she was just digging herself into a bigger hole. Betsy didn't know about Thirteen's past, or how she had reacted when she found out she had Huntington's disease just like her mother. In fact, Besty didn't know Thirteen even had Huntington's - so even now as she was trying to kill herself in various distructive ways, she was slowly dying anyway.

The next morning Thirteen woke up in pain. Her body felt like it had been run over by a truck, and then hit by a high-speed train, but it was better than the numbness she had been feeling lately. It was hard to recall the events of last night but she did remember Betsy picking her up from the bar - thanking her lucky stars that it hadn't been someone from work instead. Not bothering to look at the clock to wonder whether she was late (she most likely was anyway), Thirteen dragged herself into the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach once again. She hugged the toilet bowl knowing that this wasn't going to be the last time, and groaned as her stomach lurched. It was a good fifteen minutes before she was able to get herself up from the floor and back into her bedroom. The last thing Thirteen wanted was to go into work, especially considering House would know she was hungover, but she got dressed anyway. The pain of last nights self medicating alcohol seemed to be distracting her from the rest of her pain, and she liked it that way. Every time Thirteen would go to the bathroom to throw up, the pain shooting through her stomach, and the migraine forming made her feel alive again.

As promised, House figured it out as soon as she walked into the room. Luckily, Chase and Foreman had been somewhere else at the time and hadn't noticed (or didn't say anything) when they came back.

"Party hard last night?" House smirked once he saw Thirteen's pale face and red rimmed, sick looking eyes. "I didn't realize we were back to our old ways, drowning your sorrows with drugs and alcohol Huntingtons?"

Thirteen glared at House, at least she could put this off as something to do with her Huntingtons. "You don't know what you're talking about House."

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the lesbian's bed this morning," House quipped.

Shaking her head, Thirteen ignores the comment and reaches for a folder on the table. "Fever, vomiting, seizures…," She started to read off of the medical file until she reached one detail and paused.

"I have Chase and Foreman running blood," House cut in, noting the struggle and saving the ridicule for later. "Why don't you go talk to the parents, see if they're leaving anything out."

Thirteen nodded, silently leaving the room and turning the corner in the opposite direction of the patient's room. She had to take a moment to think, more so to calm herself down. She knew that if she started breaking down at work everyone would start digging for answers. After a few deep breaths, Thirteen headed into the bathroom and checked her appearance. She hadn't put any makeup on to try and hide the fact that she was hung over, and she hadn't attempted to brush her messy hair. Before heading to the patients room, Thirteen brushed a few fingers through her hair and splashed water of her face, she didn't look that much more presentable but at least it was something.

Once at the room, Thirteen observed for a minute before entering. She introduced herself and acclimated herself to the case by sitting down with the parents and asking a few questions. The case file was hot in her hands, and her mind was running a million miles an hour, but Thirteen tried to keep a calm face and forced a smile when the parents were looking. Together you went over the past three weeks their daughter had increasingly become sick, and made notes of things that hadn't been put in the medical history.

"Thank you for all your help Mr. and Mrs. Hayberry," Thirteen shook their hands. "I assure you we are doing everything for you daugh - Anabelle. If we find out anything, I'll be sure to let you know."


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright guys! Here's the next chapter. I know people are reading, so please please review! I seriously live on reviews - I want to know what I did wrong/right. Do I really have to beg? Thank you Razmataz13drums for your reviews!  
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**Sorry I've been a bit busy at Uni these past few weeks** **with finals, but they are a thing of the past now and I'm back.  
>So Enjoy!<br>(once again, I do not own anything - If I did then Thirteen would have stayed on House)  
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><p>As cliche as it sounded, the day went by in a blur. Surely by now Thirteen's teammates could figure out that something was wrong, because she just sat there all day and obeyed every ridiculous demand that House made. When it came down to going home for the day, the three surrounded her and tried to get her to sit on the couch to talk. But Thirteen had rushed out of the door and walked much faster than the three could keep up with. They had lost her at the elevator and by the time they got down to the parking garage her car had disappeared.<p>

Having safely gotten out of the parking lot, Thirteen stopped on the side of the street a few miles down and turned her car off. Once again, she found herself unable to make the journey home. Tears had threatened to fall several times and her hands were shaking so much that she could hardly control the car. Unlike the last couple of days, Thirteen wasn't sure she could handle this case without breaking down. Something as simple as having the same name threw her through a loop and made her face the truth she had been trying to ignore. That day, she had been unable to step foot in the patients room and somehow managed to avoid it without sparking any interest with House. For the next few days, Thirteen knew it would be harder. Eventually someone was going to give her a task that involved direct contact with the patient and somehow she was going to have to hold herself together. Until then, there had to be a way to get her feelings out without bringing people in to help her. Still feeling sick from the amount of alcohol she consumed last night, Thirteen crossed that off her mental list. The woods were going to be too dark to run, and going back to her apartment to wallow was going to be a bad idea no matter what her other choices were. She also knew that her coworkers knew where she lived, and after today they would definitely be knocking on her door.

It was after some thinking that Thirteen found herself in front of the graveyard. It hadn't been a better decision than going back to her apartment, but it seemed like a good place to get rid of her feelings. She walked the familiar rows, her feet sinking into the wet ground, and stopped at one particular grave. It was covered with new and old flowers that blew around in the wind and the rain had darkened the stone. Thirteen lowered herself to the ground and sat right in front of it, in silence trying to let go of all the stress of the day. It felt good to be nearby again, even if it was just a name etched in stove, but it would have been more soothing if she had been able to have a conversation. If there was one thing Thirteen missed the most it was the conversations they had, and the laughter that usually followed. After work they would sit down on the couch and relax, half watching a movie and discussing their days. Now all that sat on that couch was a crumpled blanket and a box of tissues that Thirteen had ripped apart the other day in anger and never bothered to clean up. If anyone looked at her apartment now, they would have thought that she had been robbed and that they tore apart the room in search for the valuables. When, in actuality, that small fit of anger had turned into something more that night, and Thirteen had ended up throwing most of her things around the room, smashing several items in the mess. The anger had passed now, it seemed to come in waves along with her crash back into reality. Sitting here now in the graveyard made the feelings bubble back up, and she wanted to scream at the ground, at anything, that this wasn't real and she would wake up any minute now to the smell of spilled cinnamon in the kitchen. With tears in her eyes, Thirteen reached a hand to the grave and traced her fingers against the letters of her name, and placed her flat palm against her middle name. For a brief moment, Thirteen could feel the warmth of her hand against hers but as a chilly wind tore through the graveyard, she lost the sensation and only felt the cold, hard stove. She hadn't wanted to leave the spot, but the visit wasn't helping as much as Thirteen had thought it would, in fact she felt more unstable. Heading back towards her car, Thirteen decided exactly what she was going to do that night. She found her way back to a bar across town and sat at the bar ordering drink after drink until she started to feel that familiar fuzzy feeling. It was a weekday, so the bar wasn't as busy as usual leaving Thirteen to herself without the constant interruptions of people asking if she was okay. The first time she was asked came from the bartender, after she'd ordered yet another drink. Without speaking, Thirteen threw him a look that told him not to mess with her and he left her alone. The next time he bugged her, it was to stop her from ordering more and to threaten to take away her keys. Having decided she wasn't going to deal with having another friend pick her up, Thirteen got up from the bar stool and clumsily walked towards the door claiming she could walk home instead.

Once on the streets, Thirteen walked in what she hoped was the direction of her apartment. She couldn't remember where she parked her car, and even if she did she wasn't sure she'd be able to identify which one it was. But somehow she found her way to her building without any problems. It was pitch black outside and she was pretty sure that it had taken at least an hour but at least she was safe. When she reached her door, there was a note stuck to it telling her to call at least one of her coworkers. Instead, Thirteen torn apart the note and threw it on the floor.

The next morning, Thirteen woke up to a loud knock on her door. She groaned, adjusting her eyes to the light and trying to figure out where she was before she even attempted to get up from bed. The first thing Thirteen noticed was the dried blood on the palm of her hand coming from a long cut that reached from the bottom of her pinky to the top of her wrist. Viciously red, it looked infected already, and it was sore enough that Thirteen couldn't close her hand all the way. She was almost marveled by it, liking how the pain shot up her fingers as she attempted to move them. The pain was better than the nausea and headache she got from the alcohol and it was a constant reminder. All Thirteen had to do was move her palm and the pain would come back.

The knocking only got louder the more she tried to ignore it, and was soon accompanied by voices. From what Thirteen could hear in the bathroom, House had sent Chase and Foreman to retrieve her. Either that, or they had come on their own. They couldn't hear the sound of Thirteen vomiting in the other room, so they had no idea what was going on and for at least a little while, she was safe. Trying to fix her appearance and wipe her mouth of any evidence, Thirteen answered the door through a slight crack so that the men couldn't see the extent of the mess.

They seemed shocked by her appearance, but immediately went towards her being sick. "You look terrible," Foreman raised his eyebrows.

She tries to give them a glare but it's weak at best, "I'm sick."

"We can see that," Chase gave Foreman a side glance. "We just stopped by to see if you were okay."

"Fine," Thirteen manages to mumble, trying to hold down any vomit that seems to want to make it's way up.

There's a moment of silence where the men try to muster up the courage to bring something more sensitive up. It's Foreman who does, feeling more comfortable in front of the woman.

"You seemed kind of out of it at work yesterday," Foreman begins quietly. "We wanted to make sure that you were doing alright. Whether there was anything you wanted to talk to us about."

Thirteen stays silent hoping to make the men uncomfortable enough to leave, but after a while it looks like they were going to stay for the long haul. "I've been feeling sick," She repeats herself in hopes that they won't dig any further.

"Really," Chase cuts in. "Because you've been acting pretty strangely since you got back from vacation."

"I must have caught it there," She answered shortly.

The men seems to think that this has to do with Thirteen's Huntington's, and she's happy to go along with that. They aren't going to say anything about it until she mentions it, and she knows that. Instead Foreman subtly gives her advice on a clinic trial and they leave. It doesn't take long before Thirteen is back in the bathroom and stays that way througout the day. If anyone else came to bother her, she doesn't know because half way through the day Thirteen just turns on the shower and climbs into the tub to let it fall of her. She doesn't care that she still has all of her clothes on or that the water is running cold, but the feeling of water helps her relax. If she had the choice, she would have never gotten out of the tub, but the fact that she's soaked through has made her start shivering uncontrollably. She strips herself of the wet clothes and climbs into bed without regarding that the rest of her was still wet.

At work the next morning, Thirteen acts as if nothing happened despite the concerned looks she gets from her coworkers. She finds out that Anabelle had been discharged yesterday and that helps her calm down significantly. Grabbing a cup of coffee, she sits at the table with Foreman, Chase and Taub, and engages in some conversation so that they at least get some idea that she's okay. Then House comes in and the first thing he notices as Thirteen puts her cup down is the long cut on her hand that obviously went untreated. Thirteen carefully watches his face, knowing that he saw it, but he doesn't say anything until he's sent the rest of the team away.

"You weren't at work yesterday," House starts, leaving a question at the end as if it were something he was planning on her answering.

Thirteen nods, and tries to leave the office but House stops her. He grabs the hand that she had tried to keep hidden from everyone else and flips it over to reveal the cut. He doesn't say anything but rather looks at Thirteen again with an eyebrow raised.

She tries to pull the hand away but House somehow keeps his grip on it. "I'm guessing this wasn't an accident." For once House sounds concerned and that stops her.

Saying nothing isn't going to help, House will only come up with his own theories. "Can opener," Thirteen smiles and tries to pull away again.

House lets go of her hand but doesn't stop there. "You weren't at work yesterday," He repeated.

"I was sick," She uses the excuse again, knowing that the men must have told him yesterday. He has his own suspicions, even if Thirteen tells him otherwise and they both know that now he's not going to give up. Thirteen's only wish is that he doesn't bring Cuddy into it.

"Can I go now?" Thirteen breaks the silence, bringing House out of his own thoughts.

He nods, and she head down a hallway in the opposite direction of where she's supposed to be going and would only lead her to the coworkers who probably had more questions. Thirteen found herself needing yet another place to clear her head but it seemed like there wasn't one corner of the hospital where one could do that. And even then, if she stayed too far from the rest of the team they would surely get more suspicious. Pacing the hallway a couple of times, Thirteen finally retreated back past House's office where she found everyone sitting down at the table. Nobody said anything as she took her seat quietly and grabbed a folder from the end of the table. They were halfway through the deliberation already, and Thirteen struggled to focus enough to keep up. Before she knew it, everyone was standing up again and staring down at her as if she was supposed to be moving like the rest of them, but she hadn't even realized they were told to run tests. Closing the folder and following the three men out, Thirteen pretended that nothing had happened and carefully listened to them talking to try and get the gist of what they were doing. She quickly finds out that they are treating a little girl, and they were heading towards her room. Making up an excuse, Thirteen ducks out of the group and towards the bathroom. She was scared to come in any contact with a patient ever since the death of Anabelle. It had been no problem coming into the hospital for work, even when there were bad memories surrounding another hospital - but Thirteen still found herself unable to come near a patient, especially those they had recently.

Wanting to be alone, Thirteen found herself in just the opposite situation as she ran into Cuddy at the sinks. She smiles and notices that Thirteen seems out of it and upset and immediately rushes to her side.

"I think I need some more time off," Thirteen told Cuddy breathlessly and without explanation runs out of the bathroom.

Cuddy sits there stunned, wondering what was happening to Dr. Hadley that had her acting this way. She decides that it would be a good idea to talk to House, maybe sit the two of them down. Thirteen is nowhere in sight when Cuddy arrives up at the office, but after her breakdown, Cuddy was sure that was going to be the case. It isn't until Chase, Foreman, and Taub come back that Cuddy realized Thirteen must have run out of the hospital all together. She smiles at House and says nothing, but it seems to have sparked his interest. House follows Cuddy out into the hallway and with some persuasion, Cuddy tells him what happened in the bathroom. Uncharacteristically, House looks more concerned than she did, and now Cuddy is left wondering what he knows.

After the encounter with Cuddy, Thirteen ran as far away as she could. The tears had started to fall once she was out of the lobby and now they didn't seem to want to stop. As much of a wall Thirteen had thought she put up, she realized it wasn't sturdy enough quite yet. It was a bad idea returning to work and trying to move on so quickly and the first sane action she had taken was to tell Cuddy she needed to take more time - even if it had been random, and completely informal. Her next sane act was going to be getting up from the ground and leaving town for a little while.

It took all her strength and willpower to get herself off the ground, but Thirteen soon found her way back to the parking lot and quickly got into her car. There was no question, she knew where she was going this time, and it wasn't to drown her sorrows in a strong alcoholic drink. There was a hotel she had in mind, and a destination she knew how long it would take to get to. Thirteen didn't care that she hadn't packed any clothes, or that Cuddy was probably going to fire her when she got back.

It was around lunch time when Thirteen arrived at the hotel. They recognized her from when she and Anabelle visited a couple times last year, and immediately asked how she was doing. Thirteen lied, and said she was doing better since the treatments, but was unable to make this visit. They smile sadly, but are more than happy to give Thirteen a room for however long she wanted. Thirteen climbs the familiar steps to her room and immediately plops herself on the bed. The change of scenery is helping but she still wants to climb under the covers and stay there for eternity, or at least until someone from the hotel drags her out. Instead, Thirteen decides to look out of the window that looks over the beach. She can smell the salty air, and hear the waves crashing. It's her favorite sound, or it used to be until all they did was remind her of what she lost. Coming here was only a good idea because it kept the good memories alive, instead of her sitting in the dark, messy apartment that was once filled with light and laughter. If Thirteen did decide to get under the covers again, at least it would be somewhere different, and she would wake up from whatever sleep she was getting to the idea that, if she wanted to, she could go for a walk on the beach, or travel into town and get some taffy that had always been her favorite.

Getting off the bed, Thirteen hits the cut on her hand hissing at the contact. There had been a moment of relief there that Thirteen wanted to reproduce. Determined to do so, Thirteen rushed to the bathroom and searched through the drawers, coming up with a pack of disposable razors. It was like she had found gold. Exposing the skin on her stomach, Thirteen used the other hand to rip apart the packet of razors. Slowly she lowered the blade to her stomach, and with little hesitation, applied pressure forming a perfectly straight line on her hip. As she watched the blood seep from the wound, Thirteen let out her breath. The feeling was better than the fuzziness of being drunk, and it made her forget about her anger. On a high, Thirteen added three more before deciding that she was ready to face the world.

Back at Princeton-Plainsboro, the day was spent treating the patient, but all the men had one thing on their minds, and that was Thirteen. Only House knew about the cut on her hand, and when Cuddy revealed that she had run out of the hospital, he put two and two together. So at the end of the day, House demanded the men to check out Thirteen's apartment. They didn't whine, or refuse because they wanted to know what was wrong with Thirteen as well. As much as they hated to break into someone's house, especially a coworkers, it seemed like the right choice at the time. Chase drove them all to the apartment building and together they knocked on her door hoping that she would answer and tell them everything was alright. But when she didn't answer the door, Foreman stepped in to break in.

Once the door was open they saw the damage done to the apartment and immediately grew more concerned. Chase went towards her bedroom, Taub went into the kitchen and Foreman just decided to look around in the general area. There was nothing of great consequence anywhere in the apartment, except for rotting food and the broken items in the living room. Then the three came to a door none of them had seen or been through before. When Chase tried the door it was locked, and although they knew this was obviously something Thirteen wanted to keep private they grew more curious. Breaking through the door the men saw something they never expected. The walls were bright pink, a small bed with the name Anabelle written above it and dresser filled the room. It was immediately apparent that a little girl lived here. Then they came across a wall of pictures stuck on the wall in neat rows and decorated with stickers. Most pictures were of little girls, Foreman guessed around ten years old, so they couldn't identify which one lived in this room. Then behind a photo of two little girls dressed a fairies, Chase found the picture they had all been looking for. It was a close up of Thirteen and a little girl who know one could deny was related to her, they were both smiling but it looked like half way through the picture Thirteen had been distracted by something and her head was blurred. Another picture showed the little girl on what looked like her 2nd birthday, a much younger Thirteen standing behind her helping blow out the candles.

"She has a daughter?" Chase finally spoke up, saying exactly what had been on the others minds.

Being out in town brought back some memories for Thirteen, but still feeling the effects of her new hobby she was able to put a facade up and push past the feelings. As she chewed on a piece of taffy Thirteen wondered around, not looking into any stores or stopping to take in the scenery, but rather as something to do. Several store owners recognized her and asked about Anabelle just as the owners of the hotel had, and Thirteen lied to them to save herself from any feelings they might bring up. There wasn't much more that she could handle, so making her way out of town she stopped at the beach. Dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that Thirteen had found, she decided that going for a run would help. She took off her shoes on the edge of the sand and ran down to the water, running parallel with the waves. With each stride the pain of her cuts stung her stomach, adding to the physical pain she was feeling from running after not doing so for months. But soon, lost in her own thoughts, it was hard to keep track of just how long she had been running for and it was only when she looked up that she realized it had been too long. By the time she had run back to her shoes she was dizzy and in a tremendous amount of pain. She had pushed herself too hard and wasn't sure she could make it back to the hotel without fainting along the way. Sitting on a bench, Thirteen tried to regain control, but was gasping for breath and beginning to come in and out of consciousness. Another runner stopped to check on her and when doing so called 911. By the time the ambulance had arrived Thirteen had blacked out and the other runner was desperately trying to keep her awake. It wasn't until later at the hospital that the doctors figured out that Thirteen was severely dehydrated and malnourished. Just looking at the woman could tell you most of the story, but when the reports came back it was shocking how bad it was. Since being admitted to the hospital, she hadn't woken up and the doctors didn't expect her to anytime soon. There was nothing stopping her from doing so, but it had been the body's way of protecting itself by shutting down. No matter how many drips, or tests the doctors ran it wasn't going to move it along any faster, it was up to her to wake up, all the doctors could do was try to make her healthier for when she does.

Being out of town, the nurses had a hard time finding a medical file for Thirteen, so when they finally came across one the first thing that was done was to call her emergency contact to get more information and to warn them of what happened. The first number rang and rang but no one answered. The contact was listed as her father, and the nurses assumed that he would want to know his daughter was in the hospital before they called any of the other contacts. Leaving a message, they tried the next number and were happy to find that they answered the phone after a couple of rings and when they heard about what had happened, told the nurses that she would be there as soon as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, sorry guys! I've been super busy lately, and even then I feel like I'm behind on my schoolwork! Thank you so much for all the reviews! I smile every time I get a new email! **

**So here's the next chapter, enjoy! **

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><p>When the phone call was done and she had hung up the phone, getting up from her chair and rushing out the door was not the first thing she did. It hadn't been the phone call she was expecting, and it hadn't been news that she wanted to hear. The phone call had caught her off guard, at best, and for a while before she got up, she couldn't get her mind to stop spinning. She had told the nurses at the hospital on the phone that she would be there as soon as possible. It had been a reflex response, after hearing someone was in the hospital and now she wasn't so sure it had been a good idea. Thirteen hadn't been a particularly close friend in these past few years, in fact they had their share of fights, but in the past few days Thirteen was becoming alarmingly unlike herself. Closing down her computer and shutting off the lights, she walked out of the hospital and to her car. She had no idea how far away the town was or how long it would take her to get there but she just drove.<p>

The welcome sign brought her out of her own thoughts and gave her a sinking feeling in her stomach. The town was quaint, set on a beach and lined with small boutique, mom and pop shops. It reminded her of where she used to go on vacation and for a brief moment, there was a smile on her face. Had it not been a visit to see Thirteen at the hospital, she would have loved to stay her - even to bring Rachael. As she pulled up to the hospital, the stress of the day fell on her shoulders again. This hadn't been the first time something unexpected had come up today, and this certaintly wasn't the worst, but she wasn't sure she could stand seeing Thirteen in the hospital after the concerns they'd had for her that previous week. Thirteen had been so withdrawn and unlike herself that everyone in the hospital had noticed. And then, when she took off without telling anyone, although everyone kept quiet, she could tell that they were silently wondering to themselves whether they would ever see her again. And now, here she was standing in front of another hospital, in another state, after a mysterious phone call from the nurses. Thirteen may have wanted them to never see her again, but fate had landed her in the hospital (probably saving her from herself). The thought hadn't entered her mind before, but the rumors came back as she stepped into the lobby of the hospital. Had Thirteen attempted (succeed?) in suicide? Was there something else wrong, healthwise? Was this going to be the last time she saw her alive?

She hadn't noticed that she was close to tears until a lady in the elevator handed her a tissue. She gratefully took it and smiled at the woman, who in turn gave her a broken one back. They were at a hospital, she had to remind herself, she was surrounded by grief and little pockets of happiness. This wasn't a social visit, this was making sure that Thirteen was alright and had someone by her side. Her hands shook as she approached the nurses' station, but as she gave her name they instantly recognized her and led her to Thirteen. The moment they approached the room, she could feel the nervousness ache in her body. She didn't know what to expect, they had been so vague on the phone so that left her with her imagination. Luckily, Thirteen wasn't covered in bandages, and she didn't look close to dying. There were a few machines, and an IV that didn't look to harmful so she was able to let out her breath. The nurse smiled, realizing just then how nervous she had been, and she sat down on the chair by the bed.

"I'm sorry to have rushed you over her," the nurse started. "Her father didn't answer, and you were the only other person on her emergency contacts."

She nods, anticipating the bad news that was coming next. "Thank you. I know she would want someone here with her. May I ask why she's here?"

The nurse then sat on the chair in front of her and looked her straight in the eyes. The nurses' smile had become a little sadder, "Ms Hadley collapsed on the beach, another runner had caught her and called an ambulance. She's severely dehydrated and malnurished, we suspect that she's been going through a hard time lately."

She nods but doesn't know how to respond. They had all noticed, but hadn't done something about it, had they have done, would Thirteen still be in this hospital bed? The nurse could obviously sense the trouble in her, and reached her hand. She could tell there was more and sucked in her breath to await the news.

"Her blood alcohol level was .16 when she came in this afternoon, and based on her tests it seems as if she's been drinking heavily for about a week now. We also found a few fresh cuts on her hip."

At this, she looks up in shock. The drinking may not have been that much of a surprise but self-injury was not something Thirteen seemed the type to do.

"Some look new, one or two old and scabbing but we think that they were self-inflicted in the past few weeks. Do you know whether she's ever cut herself before?"

She shakes her head, still shocked at the idea that Thirteen would do that. Even so, it explained her behavior at the hospital. "So then, why isn't she awake?"

This is when the nurse gets quiet and she starts to wonder whether the fact that Thirteen was cutting was the biggest problem. "Although the dehydration and malnutrition contributed to Ms Hadley's collapse, the main reason she hasn't woken is because we found a significant amount of clonazepam in her system. At this point, the doctor's are not sure if it was intentional or not, but unfortunately there was enough to render her unconscious for a while."

The nurses' explanation is clear and kind but she can hardly hear a word of it after that. The machines around Thirteen had been an illusion, there was something much more wrong with her than she thought when she entered the room and now it was too much information to process. The nurses' questions rang in her ears, she didn't know the answers to them any more than their hospital did, but she should have. There was one thing she did know though, and she hoped that it would explain at least something to the nurse.

"Ms Hadl - Remy, has huntington's disease. She must have taken the clonazepam in addition to other medications for her symptoms."

The nurse nodded and smiled again, it had been useful information but whether that explained the unusually high amounts was not clear to her. She thanked the nurse and was finally left alone in the room, left to mull over her thoughts or rather drown in them. This had not been the news she was expecting. She had hoped that she would arrive at the hospital and Thirteen would be sitting in a hospital bed with her leg bandaged or something, not in a (self-induced?) coma. The doctors didn't know how long it would be until Thirteen woke up, but she intented on staying there until she did and getting to the bottom of what was bothering her. The last time she had seen Thirteen she had been in a rushed panic, but now sitting by the bed she could see the wear and tear, she could study the dark purple circles under her eyes and her sunken cheekbones. Thirteen had always been very thin, something she had been jealous over before, but how had they not noticed just how much weight she had lost, and so quickly it seemed to have come off.

Sighing, she sat back in her chair and leaned her head back so that she was looking at the ceiling. This was a waiting game now and she would have to get everything sorted back at home so that she could stay here. Quietly, however unnecessary, she shut the door behind her as she left the room and took out her cellphone. Rachael was her first priority, having been at the babysitters all day and probably wondering where she was. She told the babysitter that she was going to be out of town on work, in case House came around to investigate her absence, and her secretary the same, saying she would be out for at least three days. It was a matter of time before someone from the hospital called, and until then she planned on trying to get some work done in Thirteen's room.

Later that night, she found herself asleep on the chair beside Thirteen's bed with her paperwork scattered on her lap and floor. She hadn't realized that she had fallen asleep, and for a moment she was a bit disorientated until her eyes landed on Thirteen. Thirteen's condition hadn't changed since she had fallen asleep, but it definitely looked like nurses had been through the room. Checking her watch, she realized it was much later that she thought and she had several phone calls from the hospital - a couple of which were from House. Without checking her messages, she got up from the chair and paced around the room. She wasn't tired anymore, but there had to be someone comfortable to curl up for the rest of the night. After catching a nurses' attention, she managed to get a cot in the room beside the bed and sat on that until she managed to fall asleep again.

Three days passed, then five and seven. The doctor said that Thirteen wouldn't be unconscious for much longer but they couldn't give a definitive answer as to why she wasn't already. Cuddy had been staying at the hospital for the entire time, having refused to leave to check into a hotel in case Thirteen woke up. Like the doctors, she hadn't expected Thirteen to stay unconscious for so long. But day in and day out, she sat by Thirteen's bed and waited. House had now called several times. He hadn't gotten any answers from Cuddy's assistant, and no one else in the hospital seemed to know where she was. Cuddy and he had both been concerned for their coworker, and he couldn't help but wonder whether the two disappearances were related. Cuddy ignored his calls, actually she was ignoring everyone that called her, but it was only sparking House's interest.

The morning that Thirteen woke up, Cuddy had finally stepped out of the room for a quick coffee and breakfast. The doctor had briefed her earlier about Thirteen's condition and they didn't seem hopeful that it would change. Cuddy had been shocked when she walked into the room and Thirteen's wide eyes were staring back at her in shock. Cuddy was shocked too, but it was a relief to see that Thirteen was finally awake. She sat by the bed again, rushing to Thirteen's side but Thirteen's shock turned quickly into anger.

"What are you doing here?" She turned away from Cuddy. "I don't want you here."

Cuddy pulled back but continued to pursue getting through to Thirteen, "Remy, you're sick. You need someone by your side right now. I can't just leave you alone."

"You never cared before," Thirteen yelled back as best as she could. "I don't want you here, I want you to leave right now and forget this ever happened."

"You need help Remy," Cuddy practically begged. "I know."

"You don't know anything about me," Thirteen retorted. "I want you out of my room right now. Go back to the hospital, forget about me - forget about everything."

Cuddy could tell by that point that she wasn't going to get through to Thirteen, but she wasn't going to just leave her alone. Silently, she got up from her chair and left the room to please Thirteen but she wasn't going to leave the town. Cuddy hadn't even wanted to leave the hospital, but she was giving Thirteen space. Checking into a hotel down the street, Cuddy tried to calm herself down and relax before she approached Thirteen again. She used the time to try and work and catch up with her work. She returned all calls from everyone except for House and joined in on a few meetings. When she ran out of work to do, Cuddy sat back on her bed and forced herself to stay put. She wondered what Thirteen was doing, or more how she was and couldn't get the picture of her awake out of her mind. She was going to try going to the hospital again once she thought Thirteen may have calmed down but, like waiting for her to wake up, she wasn't sure how long it was going to take.

After lunch and a walk through the town (that was supposed to clear her mind), Cuddy decided to try the hospital again. She made it to the room without a problem, but when she peeked through the door she found Thirteen sitting with another doctor, sobbing into her hands. It soon became apparent that the doctor was a psychologist and Cuddy's heart ached for the other woman. She knew about the medical problems, but what else was running through Thirteen's mind that was causing all of this. There were so many secrets that Thirteen kept to herself that Cuddy just wished she would let people help her with, but Thirteen had a solid wall put up around her that very few people had been able to break through.

Once the pyschologist left the room, Cuddy found the courage to let herself into the room again. Thirteen continued to sob quietly into her hands, facing away from Cuddy she wasn't even sure Thirteen could hear her come in. Pulling up the chair, Thirteen immediately tensed and flipped over on her side. Swiftly, she wiped away tears as if they hadn't happened and made sure that Cuddy was completely iced out. Cuddy made no move to talk or comfort Thirteen, but she made sure that she stayed by her side until she willingly reached out to her.

A couple hours later, Cuddy could see that Thirteen had worn herself out and fell asleep. She may have been trying to hide it, but Thirteen had been crying the entire time. Cuddy could tell by the way that Thirteen's shoulders shook and the hiccups that escaped her mouth. Cuddy still had no idea why she was crying but she knew it had something to do with the reason Thirteen ran out of the hospital.

Thirteen stayed quiet for the rest of her time in the hospital. She allowed Cuddy to stay by her side, or at least that was what Cuddy thought because Thirteen gave no indication that she was going to yell or even speak. She sat in her bed and stared at the wall while Cuddy tried to get her to talk, but there was no use. By the time Cuddy was allowed to take her home, Thirteen hadn't spoken one word for four days. Cuddy went back to her hotel room and packed her bag, then she picked up Thirteen from the hospital and they drove back to Princeton. Thirteen had been put in Cuddy's care as an alternative to being on suicide watch, and Thirteen wasn't too happy about the situtation. No one had formally talked to Thirteen about the suspicious amount of drugs and alcohol in her system besides the pyschologist, and even then it was absolute that it had been on purpose. The hospital, and Cuddy, just wanted to make sure that Thirteen didn't get any ideas in her head about suicide after her hospital stay.

They walked into Thirteen's apartment and immediately Thirteen made a beeline for her bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. Cuddy had never been in Thirteen's apartment, and without Thirteen to show her around she was a little lost standing in the living room. The plan had been that Thirteen would pick up some clothes and then they would head over to Cuddy's house, but it was becoming obvious that it wasn't going to happen. With Rachael back at the house, Cuddy couldn't stay much longer. She had already stayed away for long enough and trying to convince Thirteen to get out of her room was going to take too long. Grabbing her cell phone, she called the first person she could trust to stay with Thirteen without asking too many questions.

"Cuddy," Wilson seemed surprised to find where he was as he walked up the stairs. "Is everything okay?"

She's standing outside of Thirteen's apartment now, having waited for Wilson after she called him. She chose her words carefully before explaining why he was here, "I need you to stay here for a little bit, just so I can run home and figure somethings out."

Wilson nodded, but Cuddy could tell that he was still confused. She had to pick some more careful words to explain the situation, but there weren't many more that didn't include 'Thirteen's been in the hospital after possibly trying to commit suicide, starving herself, and drinking herself to death'.

"Um, Remy needs a little company," Cuddy smiled nervously. "She locked herself in her room, and she shouldn't be left alone so I had to call someone to keep an….eye, on things."

Wilson's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything else besides, "Okay, take your time."

Thirteen was still locked in her room when Wilson came through the front door, but unlike Cuddy he knew his way around her apartment a little more and went towards Thirteen's door. Cuddy was right, the door was locked, but he went to knock on it anyway. They had developed a friendship over the last couple of months and he knew that if there was one person she would talk to about things, it would be him above everyone at the hospital. He knocked softly three times before he could hear the click of the lock and the door opening. Then he stood face to face with Thirteen, her cheeks stained and her eyes red, and she collapsed crying into his arms.

Without question, Wilson hugged her back and tried his best to comfort her. He led her to the couch, sitting her down quickly before getting up and making her a cup of tea. By the time he was back from the kitchen, Thirteen was fast asleep on the couch. Wilson covered her with a blanket and sat on the chair across from Thirteen to keep an eye on her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Let me start with SORRY! I made a promise to myself that over Christmas holidays I would update, but something was always getting in my way! It seems that I need to be stressed, studying for exams and finishing homework, in order to write stories (must be something to do with my need to procrastinate!) But anyway, here's the next chapter, and hopefully more will follow :)**

**Thank you everyone for all the reviews and adds! ENJOY!**

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><p>Cuddy called later that evening to check up on Thirteen and Wilson could tell that something serious must have happened just based on the types of questions she asked. But he also knew not to ask, it was obviously something that Thirteen had wanted to keep private, and he was a kind enough person to respect that. Assuring Cuddy that he was fine staying overnight with Thirteen, he hung up the phone and made his way back into the living room where he settled down for the night with a blanket.<p>

Just after midnight, while Wilson struggled to sleep as he tossed and turned on his chair, Thirteen woke up. The first thing she noticed was that Wilson was still there and she tried to make as little noise as she could so not to draw attention to herself but she had not taken in the fact that Wilson hadn't slept that night. As soon as Thirteen moved around to get up from the couch, Wilson turned over and sat up. She smiled at him, but continued not to say anything and before Wilson could start a conversation, Thirteen went into her bedroom and locked the door behind her.

When Wilson woke up a couple hours later, he found that he was still alone in the living room. Any progress he had made with Thirteen in the time that he'd spent with her had been lost and she was back to shutting him out. This time, Wilson didn't dare knock on her door until he had given Thirteen a little more space. So that he could keep a close ear, Wilson quickly walked into the kitchen in attempt to find something to eat for breakfast. But when he came up with nothing, Wilson decided that the only solution was to go out for breakfast. He had been put under strict rules by Cuddy not to leave Thirteen alone, so Wilson first had to come up with an idea on how he was going to get Thirteen out of her room. Having been successful the night before, Wilson knocked on Thirteen's door again in hopes that she would reach out to him again. It took longer this time, but eventually Thirteen opened her door and gave Wilson a long cold stare as a response.

"Yo - you, don't have any food," WIlson faltered a little. "I was going to tell you we're going for breakfast."

Thirteen raised her eyebrows and went to close the door again, but Wilson stopped her. He was ready to stand his ground again and get tough with her.

"Judging by your fridge, I would say you haven't eaten in a long time." Wilson crossed his arms across his chest, stopping the door once more as Thirteen tried to get away from this conversation. "I'm not asking you to go for breakfast, I'm telling you we're going."

There was silence for a while before Thirteen cast her eyes towards the floor and moved into her room to grab a jacket. On her way out, Thirteen slammed her door and followed Wilson out of her apartment and down the street to the only bakery Wilson knew of nearby.

Thirteen didn't speak at all until they got to the bakery. When they arrived Wilson walked inside but Thirteen stayed by the door and seemed to be refusing to come in. Wilson didn't notice until he walked to the counter and turned around to ask Thirteen what she wanted, and once he did he immediately went back outside to talk to her.

"Everything okay?" Wilson frowned noticing how Thirteen's demeanor had changed since they left her apartment. She was visibly distraught being here and more so than Wilson had seen her. "Do you want to go somewhere else for breakfast?"

The only response Wilson got was a quick nod. As they walked away from the bakery, it seemed like Thirteen couldn't walk away fast enough - leaving Wilson lagging behind her as they searched for somewhere else. Thirteen ended up rejecting the next three places Wilson suggested, her wide eyes filled with hurt as she shook her head each time and Wilson couldn't place it. When they finally agreed on a place to eat they had walked miles in silence. They sat down at a table near the window and ordered food as Thirteen tried her best to avoid any eye contact. Wilson didn't want to pry, he just wasn't the kind of person who would do that, but he knew that he had to get Thirteen to start talking, if not to help her out with whatever problems she was dealing with right now. When their breakfasts were placed in front of them, Wilson attempted some small talk before trying to get to the root of the problem but Thirteen was deflecting each question expertly, and without even saying a word. He was about to give up when he noticed that Thirteen was pushing the food around her plate and, in fact hadn't even taken a bite since it had arrived. He watched her carefully as she stared down at the plate in deep thought, ducking her head down so that he wouldn't notice that she was trying hard not to break down and cry. But Wilson did notice, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was so upset about. At this point, after staying the night and observing Thirteen, Wilson had deep concerns about her and he was starting to understand why Cuddy had been so explicit in her directions. There was no doubt Thirteen didn't want anyone to know what was going on with her, and now that Cuddy and Wilson both had an inkling, she was sure to shut down again. The fact Thirteen hadn't spoken for a couple days now was just a part of it. It was obvious now to Wilson that she wasn't eating, and that she probably hadn't been for a while wondered how else she wasn't taking care of herself. Was she spiraling down again, did it have to do with her huntington's?

Wilson finished his meal quickly and paid for the bill so that they could get out of there, and Thirteen seemed grateful for that. They walked the streets of Princeton for a little longer, embracing the cool spring air while Wilson tried to come up with the best way to confront Thirteen.

"I was thinking," Wilson broke the silence as they passed through the center of town. "It's such a nice day out, do you feel up for some ice cream?"

Thirteen didn't respond.

Clearing his throat, Wilson tried again. "I know this great gelato place just a few blocks from her. I swear you'd think you were in Italy."

Again, Thirteen continued to walk in silence.

"I used to take my niece there, when she was visiting over the summer. She used to beg me to let her have it every night for dinner. Ten-year old's can be pretty convincing, she had that ice cream at least three times a week when she was with me."

Finally something struck a chord with Thirteen, and she stopped in her tracks.

Wilson looked over at her puzzled, "So, no ice cream? Was it something I said?"

But the moment passed quickly and soon Thirteen was walking ahead of him again.

Sighing, Wilson continued to follow Thirteen down the street. He had given up trying to get her to talk and stayed silent until they made it back to her apartment when Thirteen tried to go back to her room.

"No," Wilson stopped her right before she shut the door. "I'm not going to let you stay in your room for the rest of your life. Sit with me on the couch, I'll make you a cup of tea."

Thirteen shook her head, and Wilson felt like he was dealing with a child when she moved to more forcefully shut the door on him. Wilson stopped the door with his foot, and leaned his hand against the top of the door so that she couldn't close it, and in return Thirteen surprisingly, and with unexpected force, slammed the wall next to her with her fist. Wilson raised his eyebrows at her behavior, last night he had Thirteen crying in his arms and now she was taking out her anger on the closest object.

"Couch," Wilson told Thirteen more softly. Thirteen's shoulders fell as she walked to the couch and sat down at the very edge with a blanket wrapped tightly around her. Wilson waited a second before following her, closing the door to her bedroom and sitting down in the living room across from her.

Thirteen could feel him staring at her but she pretended to be busy picking at the blanket. She followed his orders to stay with him in the living room, but that didn't mean she was going to talk. During a small moment of weakness, she had let her emotions show with Wilson and now he wasn't going to let it go. That was one quality he had picked up from being friends with House.

When Wilson refused to stop staring, Thirteen glanced up quickly and gave him her best stare.

In return, Wilson raised his eyebrows and sat back waiting for her to start the conversation.

"You can go away now," Thirteen spoke in a low, husky voice that startled even Wilson.

He shook his head, "I'm under strict orders from Cuddy."

Thirteen rolled her eyes, "You can go away now," She repeated. "I'm not going to try anything."

The last sentence caught Wilson by surprise, unsure about what she meant and kind of hoping that it didn't mean what he thought it did. Thirteen had been staring him right in the eyes when she had said it, and so deadpanned that Wilson could feel his stomach sink. Cuddy's voice came back to him and now with the facts all lined up and clear, Wilson pieced together what had obviously happened. Trying to compose himself, Wilson looked back at Thirteen. She didn't falter, her face stayed exactly the same, but now Wilson could see the hurt in her eyes and everything that Thirteen had tried so hard to cover up. He couldn't stop himself as he walked over to the other couch and sat down next to her. Thirteen's eyes stayed trained at the wall in front of her but she flinched as Wilson sat down.

"Why," He breathed out, barely above a whisper.

And just like that Thirteen shut him out once again.

Wilson was about to try again when the phone rang and broke the silence in the apartment. Knowing it was Cuddy, he immediately launched for the phone and walked into the other room to talk in private.

Before Cuddy could say anything, Wilson started. "What happened to her Lisa?"

He could hear Cuddy sigh as she rustled through things on her desk. There was a few moments of silence as Cuddy came up with the best way to put it, it was obvious that Wilson now knew. "I'm not exactly sure. They said she had a lot of clonazepam in her system."

The first thought that came to Wilson's mind was not that Thirteen had attempted anything, but was rather trying to get a grip on her disease. He wanted to think the best of her, but after their conversation he wasn't sure he could convince even himself. Trying to open his mouth and come up with an excuse to reassure Cuddy, Wilson found himself speechless. Cuddy picked up on it and sighed into the phone.

"I tried to make excuses for it too," Cuddy sounded defeated. "There's obviously something serious going on with her, and we need to get to the bottom of it before she does something stupid, well something stupid … again, I guess."

Wilson unconsciously looked over at Thirteen on the couch as he listened to Cuddy go on. She was still sitting in the same position he had left her in, but her posture was more slouched and she had pulled her knees closer. Wilson agreed with Cuddy a few times without listening to what she was actually saying, and when the conversation was over he quickly made his way back to the couch to sit next to Thirteen again.

Lost in her own thoughts, Thirteen didn't flinch when Wilson sat down and because of this he attempted to put his arm around her in comfort as well. Wilson tried to make it as casual, and slow, as possible as he reached for the remote at the same time. Thirteen continued to stare at the wall, but as he got closer she seemed to relax and sit back with him. Together they snuggled on the couch, in a friendly embrace, and watched a movie they both knew each other had seen. But it seemed to clear the air a little, and whatever tension there had been that afternoon had gone away. Half way through the movie, Thirteen leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered to him that she was sorry. There was no elaboration, and Wilson couldn't think of any reason why she would be sorry. He hugged her closer and kissed the top of her head like he would a child.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Wilson spoke back to her, leaning his chin on her head.

Thirteen shifted in her seat, starting to get a little uncomfortable with the conversation. Yet, she couldn't stop herself from opening up to Wilson as he comforted her.

They stayed silent for a little while longer, Thirteen because she hadn't wanted to reveal anymore about her personal life, and WIlson was waiting for her to say something rather than him forcing it out of her. But he was happy about the breakthrough, so at least there was that. It had been further than Cuddy had gotten and now it seemed like Thirteen was warming up to the idea of him being here. The only worry Wilson had, was that eventually he would have to go to work and leave Thirteen behind. He and Cuddy weren't always going to be able to stay with her, their schedules were just too complicated for that. And if she went back to the hospital, it would most likely send her spiraling down again. At the thought, Wilson tensed and as a result Thirteen looked up from where she was resting her head. Her eyes were wide and inquisitive for a quick second before she caught herself and frowned. At that point it was obvious that she was thinking the same thing. And she was probably worrying about it a lot more than he could imagine, or even match. So when she rested her head back on his shoulder he was once again relaxed, just knowing that she wasn't going to pull away.

"Thank you," She whispered, almost too quietly for Wilson to hear. "It's kind of been nice to have someone around. It's not very comforting coming back to an empty apartment."

Wilson smiled, "I'm glad I could help out. Do you feel like talking about what's been bothering you?"

Anticipating a fight, Wilson squeezed his eyes shut. It probably wasn't the best time to bring it up, but after Thirteen started a conversation that was going in that direction, he couldn't help himself. Surprisingly, she didn't blow up, but she did stay quiet for a few beats before sighing and opening her mouth to speak.

Wilson could hear in her voice that she was struggling to keep her emotions bottled up as she tried to come up with an explanation. He waited patiently while she closed her own eyes, and shakily sat up on the couch. "I don't even know if you'd want to hear my sob story."

She kept her eyes downcast as she spoke, not daring to look Wilson in the eyes knowing that he would have those sad, concerned - "puppy" brown eyes that no one could resist. She swallowed hard, choking back a sob as she thought about the events of the past few weeks. Thirteen wasn't sure she could recount them in her head, never mind telling Wilson the whole story. But really, she owed him that much. He stood by her as she took her anger out on him, he even got her to get out of the apartment - something she definitely wouldn't have done without his help. And Cuddy, she was probably the reason she was still here. No one would have met her at the hospital, probably not even her father (who she knew was called first). Even if it had been an awful surprise when she woke up Cuddy had been soothing, much like her mother may have been if her life had been normal.

Thirteen truly wished she could open up to everyone. Why was it so hard for her to show emotion to her friend, even her coworkers. If anything, they would help her with her grief - couldn't they all relate?

Images flashed through Thirteen's mind the moment she allowed herself to think about Anabelle again. Suddenly, it felt like that first morning she had come back to her apartment. The toothbrush lying on the bathroom sink, the blanket on the floor … the small shoes thrown messily in the hallway. Everything reminded her of the girl, and that just made it worse. Even without the items strewn across the apartment, Thirteen could imagine where they had all been, how it had been with her here, and the grief and heaviness came back.

Wilson watched as the scene unfolded in front of him. The openness Thirteen had been displaying earlier was retreating quickly, turning into a full blown panic attack that had her hunched over and gasping for breaths through her tears. Wilson did his best to calm her, but his hand on her back only made her jump up from the couch and walk into the bathroom. He followed her, only to be met by the door slamming in his face. He sat on the floor with his back against the door until she came out again. He couldn't hear water running, so she wasn't taking a shower or using the bathroom, and that worried him. He didn't think that Thirteen was stupid enough to self-destruct in front of him like this, not after their conversation only minutes ago. When Thirteen reappeared only minutes later, Wilson could only sigh knowing that she wasn't trying to swallow a bottle of painkillers, or drown herself in the bathtub. She was calmer, not by a long stretch, but enough to get her back onto the couch and under a blanket. She rested her head on his lap, pulling her legs up on top of the couch and snuggling in. Her breath was still shaky, and Wilson could see that she wasn't in the clear yet. Every so often she would sniffle and wipe away tears she was trying to hide from him. The conversation they had started was over, and Wilson wasn't going to push it again.

At some point, Wilson couldn't say when, they had fallen asleep on the couch. It had been early, because by the time Wilson realized it was dark in the living room and the clock read 1am. It was not surprising, however, that Thirteen had disappeared again. The blanket had been placed kindly on top of him, and he had somehow ended up with his head on a pillow that hadn't been there before. Rubbing his eyes, Wilson got up from the couch and walked towards the one place he thought he would find Thirteen.

He found the door to her bedroom wide open, so Wilson decided that the next reasonable place would be the bathroom. But, that was empty as well and that was when the panic set in. Walking back to the living room with his cellphone in hand and Cuddy's cell phone number ready to call, Wilson finally noticed another door he hadn't seen before. Curiously, he looked at it for a while knowing that there was probably a reason Thirteen had never bothered to show his this room. There was a light on inside, this he knew because of the light coming from the bottom of the door, but he couldn't get himself to open it. Wilson had no idea what could be behind that door, and he wasn't sure what he was going to find. Under normal circumstances, Wilson would never invade someone's privacy like this, but if it meant finding Thirteen then he knew he had to.

Much like her coworkers had been when they opened the door, Wilson walked in with shock written all over his face. He immediately noticed how girly and childish the room was and the first thought that entered Wilson's mind was exactly what Thirteen hadn't wanted him (or anyone) to find out.

Thirteen was asleep on the bed, snuggling a old ratty teddy bear that belonged in the collection across the room. She was curled up close to the bear, her knees tucked tightly against her stomach and the bear up to her face. She looked peaceful, Wilson thought. It had probably been the first time she'd slept through the night, so despite the shock he was in, Wilson left the room and went back to the couch to try and sleep some more.

It was after 7am when Wilson decided he wasn't going to try and force himself to sleep anymore. His thoughts had been racing all night, trying to figure out the mystery that was Thirteen. By the time he was ready to close his eyes and shut off his mind, it was too late in the morning and he just decided to get up. Thinking Thirteen would be alright for now, he quickly left a note on the counter and walked out of the apartment. He knew after yesterday that Thirteen didn't have any ingredients for breakfast, and he hadn't been able to make it to the grocery store to get her any. So, while Thirteen was still asleep, Wilson decided he would go to the corner store and pick up somethings so that they could both have a good breakfast. Wilson had started to notice that the lack of food in Thirteen's apartment hadn't been a mistake, and actually she hadn't been eating properly, or even at all, since she came back from "vacation". After yesterdays fiasco, Wilson wanted to make her a breakfast she would like and that wouldn't force her to go outside to places she obviously didn't want to go to.

When Wilson got back to the apartment, before he even put the groceries in the kitchen, he checked the room again. The door was half open so that Wilson could see Thirteen on the bed. She looked more zoned out than usual, so Wilson left the bags at the door and walked through. Thirteen didn't acknowledge that he had come in, continuing to stare at the teddy bear in her lap. This morning, Wilson could get a better look at the room, observing that there were photos on the wall (a lot of photos) that involved a little blonde girl and a younger Thirteen. He could also see the name Anabelle written across the wall above the bed (where had he heard that name before?). The bed was made, a little crumpled from Thirteen last night, but looked like it hadn't been slept in for a while. The teddy bears and dolls were all lined up neatly, collecting dust and unplayed with. The room looked like it was for a little girl around the age of 13, but the pictures showed a girl no older than 8. Wilson suddenly felt like his breath had been taken from him. As he sat down on the bed next to Thirteen, a picture on the bedside table caught his eye. There sat the two of them, big smiles on their faces in front of a beach with fireworks going off in the background. It was the only picture of the little girl older than 8 years old, and she looked sick.

Finally, Wilson put a hand on Thirteen's lap and rubbed her knee with his thumb comfortingly. She continued to pretend that he wasn't there, but he could see the way her breath hitched that she was struggling not to break down in front of him again.

Trying his best not to make Thirteen fold into herself again, Wilson nodded towards the food at the doorway. "I thought after yesterday you would want a nice breakfast at home."

Thirteen made no sign of moving, nor did she acknowledge the bags that were sitting there. The only difference was that now her eyes were trained on the photo on the bedside table, instead of the wall.

"Come on," Wilson encouraged her. "I'll make a nice breakfast and then we can watch another movie."

Thirteen responded by falling back onto the bed again and curling up into a ball. She covered her face with a pillow, trying to cover up the tears that she couldn't stop from falling and hoped that Wilson hadn't seen. She felt it as Wilson got up from the bed, that end of the bed springing up from his weight, and she heard the door close behind him. The moment she smelled cinnamon coming from the kitchen, she knew he wasn't going to give up on her, and that today was going to be a long one.

A couple minutes later, when Wilson called her into the kitchen, Thirteen tried her best to fix her appearance before facing him. By now, it was easy for Wilson to put the pieces together but the last thing she wanted was for him to see what a mess she was. When she walked into the kitchen, Wilson had set up the table - placemats and all. He was sitting on one end of the table, and an empty spot with a plate full of eggs, bacon and some sort of french toast was waiting for her. She cringed at the idea of eating so much, her stomach not even hinting at being hungry, but she decided to humor Wilson until he got the idea to go away and leave her alone in misery.

Thirteen tentatively walked over to the plate, keeping her eyes away from Wilson - even though he was pretending to read the paper and drink coffee while keeping a close eye on her without making any eye contact. She picked at the plate at first, moving the food around and cutting it up into small pieces. Wilson was an excellent cook, there was no doubt about that, but the smell of cinnamon in the french toast reminded her of too much. She hated eggs, but Wilson probably didn't know that, and she was a vegetarian - ruling out the rest of the meal. Wilson continued to read his newspaper and eat his meal. Much to her displeasure, he looked over at Thirteen every few minutes to make sure food passed through her lips, and so far he hadn't seen that happening. She pretended not to notice that he was doing it, but also didn't show that she was affected by it. By the time Wilson was done with his plate, Thirteen had cut up her breakfast into tiny pieces and arranged them on the plate so that they created some sort of picture. Wilson looked over curiously, but she quickly got up from the table and threw the plate into the sink before he could catch what she was doing. He followed her to the sink, putting his plate with hers and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

The simple touch had Thirteen in tears. Wilson pulled her into a hug, much like he had the first night he saw her, and let her cry on his shoulder. Neither of them said anything, they didn't have to. Both of them knew that Wilson had figured out everything, it had only be inevitable seeing as he was practically living in Thirteen's hadn't had to tell Wilson what was wrong, but she was waiting for him to figure it out.

When she finally stopped crying, her hoarse voice startled Wilson. "She was 13," Thirteen shook with the aftershock of her tears. "We had been fighting this cancer for five years, and yet it couldn't have been more of a surprise." Wilson opened his mouth to say something, managing only to whisper an 'I'm sorry' into her hair. "The day, the last day she was admitted to the hospital - she'd been doing well… it was like any other day. Now I can't help but wonder whether I'd missed something, some kind of sign that I should have noticed that would have made me take her to the doctors."

At this point, Thirteen was crying again. Wilson led her to a chair, afraid that she would collapse on the floor if she didn't sit. He sat down next to her, his hand on her back as he carefully listened to her.

"I loved her so much," Thirteen's voice broke. "It's unfair, I was supposed to go first."

Thirteen doesn't stay long enough for Wilson to say anything. The last words are said as she storms into her bathroom again, something Wilson was starting to wonder about. This time she doesn't emerge as quickly. Wilson stayed sitting on the couch, but stared at the door waiting for it to open and Thirteen to be okay again. When ten minutes passed, he started to worry. He slowly walked up to the door and pressed his ear up to it, but couldn't hear anything including any sign that Thirteen was alive and moving around. The panic setting in, Wilson moved his hand to knock on the door when he heard a sob. Then there was a loud bang, followed by several as it sounded like Thirteen hit her fists against the wall. Wilson moved away from the door once he knew she would be okay after letting out her anger, and he was immediately met with silence again.

Another half hour later, Wilson tried the bathroom again. He had been sitting on the couch in the living room waiting for her to come out and when she hadn't he started to worry again. He made no effort to be sneaky this time, knocking on the door a couple times instead and calling her name. When he had no response, WIlson tried the door but it was locked. He pulled at it harder, hoping that somehow it would open just like that. When nothing else worked, Wilson turned to hit the door with his shoulder. He had seen House break down a door before, but he was unsuccessful at it even when he was panicked and needed it to open. He backed up in the living room and was about to ram the door again when it flung open. Thirteen stood at the door frame, tearstained face and all, looking more miserable than she had ever since he arrived at her apartment. When Wilson approached her, she didn't let him pull her into a hug. She flinched and crossed her arms across her body to stop him from getting close. Wilson was puzzled at the action, she'd been so open for the past few days that he hadn't expected her to push him away like this.

Over the next week or so, Thirteen pulled away more and more. She stopped talking again, she stopped eating (as if she had even started), and Wilson continued to find her in Anabelle's room. Worried that she would try something, Wilson made sure to keep an extra eye on her. He didn't leave the apartment, or move further from the bedroom door than the living room unless he had Cuddy come over or a neighbor would watch her while he went to work. Every time he came back to the apartment, Wilson would find her in the same spot he had left her in. He tried to talk to her when he could, but she would turn a cold shoulder and escape into the closest room.

When the cold shoulder started to get old for Wilson, he tried to come up with something that would force her back out again. It was all he could think about at work and the people around him could tell that Wilson was distracted, including (unfortunately) House.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'll admit, that one review this morning kicked my butt into shape. They have too much power over me. It's my weakness. Oh well. Could be worse, I suppose. ****But I'm very impressed that someone is still reading this story (How long has it been exactly?...I had to make a "previously on Unspoken Tragedy..." outline before posting this to make sure it was consistent), and cares enough to push me. This is all you.**

**Anyway, it's been too long, and I'm sorry about that. I'll do better next time. Enjoy! :)**

**_(Oh, and I own nothing)._**

* * *

><p>Going back to work was not an easy task for Wilson. After his eventful couple of weeks staying at Thirteen's apartment, all he could think about in his spare time was figuring out a way to get her back. He had found a friend in Thirteen, more so than he had in the couple of years that she had worked at Princeton-Plainsboro. She may not have been talking to him, much at least, but the more he stayed with her the more he understood about her. The things that she kept hidden from everyone else at the hospital were out in the open between them. The moments when she opened up to him were few and in-between, but she was honest and open with him. It hurt Wilson to see her going through this, after his experience with Amber he could definitely relate, but at the same time he knew she would come to on her own terms. He was just there to support her, and try and help her through the process as much as possible.<p>

But this made him more distracted, and as a result people at the hospital started to notice. He tried to 'hide' in places where he wouldn't run into anyone, but it seemed that everyone was following him. The only safe house he had was in Cuddy's office, and they often ate lunch together (either quietly or trying to avoid morbid subjects such as Thirteen's downward spiral). After a particularly difficult day, Wilson would sit with Cuddy after work and they would blurt out all their worries about everything.

On this particular day, Wilson couldn't seem to do anything right. He had come into work that morning already dreading the day, met by House who was working up some kind of scheme to get him to talk. He tried to avoid answering him, but as they were stuck in the elevator together House picked at him more and more. The more Wilson didn't talk back, the more Houses' curiosity grew… and everyone knew, that wasn't good news. House let him out of the elevator without much of an argument, but behind him Wilson could feel House staring at him. This wasn't going to be the last time he saw House today, that much was obvious. Wilson knew the he had already bugged Cuddy about his missing doctor, several times in fact, and Cuddy had tried to put it off as a temporary leave but House was obviously not taking that. He had also dropped by Wilson's office more than usual over the past few weeks, noticing the difference in behavior between his friend and boss and trying to connect the dots. Most times, Wilson didn't have to say anything, House would go on his tangents and one of his doctors would interrupt at the perfect time. House would turn his back, and Wilson would quickly pick up the phone and pretend to make an important phone call. Today, House didn't drop by his office until later in the afternoon, just as Wilson was clearing his desk and getting ready for his last consultation. He opened the door with great emphasis, limping over to the chair across from Wilson.

Wilson couldn't hold back his annoyance, not after the day he had, "What do you want House? I'm trying to get ready to leave."

House checked his watch curiously, "A little early, trying to get back to your girlfriend? Hooker again? Oh no. Don't tell me. You're dating Thirteen, that's why you're both missing in action, what… did you knock up Huntington's or something?"

Losing his patience, Wilson rubbed his forehead. House hadn't beat around the bush this time - he'd gone straight to the subject he knew Wilson was bothered about. "House, I need to get home because my parent's are coming into town tonight. Stop snooping, and try helping your patient for once."

"He was discharged," House raised his eyebrows at the slight outburst. "About three hours ago. So, your parents are coming in? How are Jill and Peter? I'd love catch up with them, perhaps I'll stop by for dinner."

Wilson shook his head, "Goodbye House, I'll talk to you more tomorrow."

"Avoiding the subject," House narrowed his eyes. Saying nothing else, he got up from his chair and left the office. Wilson wasn't sure whether to worry about this, but the idea of being able to drive to Thirteen's apartment and sit on the couch clouded any negative thoughts.

He passed Cuddy on the way out of the hospital, exchanging a tired look before heading their separate ways, Cuddy into her office and Wilson to his waiting car.

By the time Wilson got back to the apartment and let himself in, it was almost dark outside and Wilson couldn't get to the coffee machine fast enough. Coming back into the living room with his drink, he noticed that the apartment was exactly how he left it, meaning that Thirteen hadn't come out of the room all day. He thought about checking on her, but decided that this time he would give her some distance. He sat on the couch and turned on the television, leaving the sound low not only so he could hear any noises Thirteen might be making moving around, but so that he could maybe have a little nap. He was exhausted from his day, and knowing that it was going to start over again tomorrow only made him more tired. The coffee did little to wake him up, though he didn't really expect it to either. He pulled the blanket over his lap and threw his head back to lean on the top pillow of the couch. 15 minutes passed, and he didn't fall asleep. Then another 15, and yet nothing. He turned the television off before trying again, but it was no use. The quiet did nothing to ease him mind, and there was really no point in trying now.

Wilson got up from the couch and walked around the apartment instead, he straightened some things out, and made sure that nothing had expired in the fridge. He had stocked it up over the weekend, but the food wasn't moving like he had hoped. He had tried to cook meals and leave them out with notes telling Thirteen to eat, but she obviously hadn't read them. He picked out a couple items, they had expired a few days ago, and threw them in the garbage. Then Wilson picked some more food out and began to cook them. While he was home, Wilson decided that cooking dinner was the only way he would get Thirteen to eat. He didn't usually make anything of great consequence when he was living by himself, but with another mouth to feed (and a hungry, unfed one at that) he thought that a nice meal would help her along.

He had picked some cooking techniques up from House, who got more out of his cooking class than he had ever in the months he had taken them. There was one recipe book that had been left behind, Wilson had brought it to Thirteen's apartment about a week and a half after he'd officially moved in, in hopes that it would make Thirteen want to eat more. There was one particular recipe that he had wanted to try, and when he had gone grocery shopping the other day, he had picked out the ingredients for it. Quickly starting the oven and stove, he threw the ingredients in a pot and grabbed the spices from the shelf. As the oil was heating up, he chopped the vegetables - throwing them into the pan with a hiss. As they were steaming, he couldn't help but notice that the quiet had stayed just that. The worry that the cooking had distracted from, came back and he was curious as to what Thirteen could possible be doing. The smell of the vegetables starting to burn brought his attention back to the stove, and once again he was engulfed in his cooking.

Assuming that Thirteen was going to come out when the smell started to fill the apartment, Wilson was surprise that she hadn't shown up as he was setting the table. Now his curiosity returned, and he went to knock on the doors of the bedrooms where Thirteen was usually hiding. The first door, her bedroom, was open and Wilson could clearly see that she wasn't there. The second, Anabelle's bedroom, was locked as it normally was. Looking under the door, he could see that there was a light on, but no noise came from inside the room. Again, normal because often times Wilson would find her sleeping. Knocking on the door now, Wilson called into Thirteen.

"Remy," Wilson spoke softly at first afraid about waking her up. "I've made dinner, I thought you could use a good homemade meal." He was met with silence, as usual, so there was nothing to worry about.

"Come on Rem," Wilson leaned his head on the door. "It's even vegetarian, I made it especially for you. You wouldn't want it to go to waste, would you?"

More silence, and Wilson was now starting to worry. Not only did he get no response, but there wasn't any noise coming from the room still. Usually by now, he would at least hear Thirteen getting up from bed, or stirring from her sleep. It occurred to Wilson then, that the door might not actually be locked. Seeing a closed door normally meant that she was inside and had locked it, he hadn't actually tried the door when he came to look for her. Trying the knob, Wilson was relieved to find that it wasn't locked, with a few shoves and turns he opened and walked into the room. The first thing he noticed was that there wasn't anyone in there, and didn't look like anyone had been. The bed was made, and the room had been tidied. Processing this, Wilson walked into the rest of the apartment, he checked the bathrooms, and the closets, but he couldn't find Thirteen. Then he hurriedly looked for a note, surely if Thirteen had left the apartment at any part of the day she would have left him a note saying where she was going and when she would be back.

When it turned out that she hadn't (Wilson hadn't really expected her to anyway), Wilson was in full panic. Over the past few weeks he had learned about her past, her destructive ways, and he could only imagine what she was doing right at this moment. There was two options he had right now, to look for her on his own without knowing exactly where she would go, or calling for backup: Cuddy. He wasn't sure that Cuddy could do much either, but he thought that with the two of them, they would be able to decide where to start. The phone rang a couple times before Cuddy picked up. She was still at the office, and Wilson could hear someone in the background.

"Dr. Cuddy," She answered. "How many I help you?"

Wilson stopped for a moment before speaking, he wasn't sure how to phrase exactly what had happened. "Lisa, it's James," he cleared his throat. "Remy's gone somewhere, I can't find her."

It was in this moment that Wilson found out who was in the office with Cuddy. Her reaction wasn't what he expected, "Well is everything okay?" It must have been House pestering her.

"I need you to come over," Wilson gave her direct answers. "I don't know where I'd go looking for her."

"Okay," Cuddy spoke evenly and without an ounce of panic in her voice. "I'll be right there."

With House in her office, Wilson wasn't sure how long it would take Cuddy to get out. He went back into Anabelle's room and looked for clues as to where Thirteen would run away.

He took another look at the pictures on the wall, studying them more than he had the first time he stepped into this room. He noticed that Thirteen's attitude changed the newer the photos got. She would go from beaming at the camera, to giving a smile that was clearly fake. If you looked closely, and knew what Thirteen had gone through you could see the hurt in her eyes. Every photo, whether it was the two of them or a group of people, would be of Thirteen and Anabelle hugging or holding each other closely as if they were conjoined. Looking past the faces, Wilson noticed that the majority of the photos were taken in 3 places. He could identify two of them as places in this neighborhood, the park a couple blocks down, and the ice cream shop he had asked her to go to weeks ago. The last, he didn't recognize, but hoped that Cuddy would once she got here.

When a knock sounded at the door, Wilson pulled on his coat and rushed to answer it. Cuddy stood there, keys in hand and with the same idea as the two walked down the stairs and outside to the sidewalk. Wilson was describing what he'd found in the bedroom and where they should look when the two noticed (simultaneously) that House was sitting there, leaning against his motorcycle. The two had similar reactions, they closed their eyes and hear each other as they breath out, swearing under their breaths. House looks amused as he gets closer to figuring out the pieces of the puzzle neither of them wanted him to know.

"Your mom looks great," House exclaims at they walk closer to their cars. "Though, it seems like she got some work done to look exactly like Cuddy. I understand of course, because who wouldn't want to look that hot. But really, it's uncanny."

Cuddy is the first to talk back, she's always been good at putting House in his place. "Shut up House," she yells. "Wilson and I were just about to go meet his parents at the restaurant, so if you'll excuse us…."

"Oh, I see," House smiled. "You must have confused the restaurant with Thirteen's apartment… this town is so confusing, I understand. Actually, I was looking for the bar, but I'm guessing this isn't it?"

Cuddy looks over at Wilson, the two are practically speechless. "House," Wilson calls out from behind Cuddy. "Just go home, this has nothing to do with you."

At this, House moves away from the edge of the sidewalk. "Oh but it does. I'm missing a duckling, and you obviously know where she is. I'm just concerned for her, you know. She could be lying facedown in a lesbian bar somewhere."

When it seems House isn't going to give up, the two decide to ignore him. The further House pushes them, the more information he's going to get, and neither wanted that to happen. Quickly deciding that they would both take separate cars, they got in and turned it on. House stayed standing on the sidewalk, staring them down as if that would stop them. As Wilson pulls away, he receives a text message from Cuddy. They had a similar idea in that they would drive around the neighborhood to try and lose House. It was plain to see now that he was going to try and follow them.

As they left the apartment, neither see House get back on his motorcycle, nor do they see him heading towards the apartment to snoop. There's a certain curiosity as to what he's going to do, but both Wilson and Cuddy head to the places they had discussed earlier.

Wilson arrives at the park House free, but with no sign of anyone else around. It's dark out now so there are no children or families running around. But the park is big, expanding further than what you can see from the parking lot, so Wilson gets out of his car and starts to walk towards the swings. The lights at the school next door give him a path to the very end of the park, but even without it anyone can see that there isn't anyone there. Wilson turns around and walks back to his car, mentally checking that one off of his list, and moving to the next.

Across town, Cuddy didn't have much more luck. Her first destination was the ice cream shop Wilson had noticed in a picture. She knew the shop well, walking into the shop with a smile on her face as she greeted the owner. Cuddy explained the situation, but he hadn't seen Thirteen in months, not even a glimpse. When she turned out of the shop and walked back to her car she called Wilson to see how he was doing - but it was the same. They both got into their cars and decided where they would go next.

Little did either of them know, House followed Cuddy to the ice cream shop. He overheard Cuddy tell the store owner that they were looking for Thirteen, and so he went off of his own search. House had some of his own theories, so it wasn't that difficult to narrow down where he would look. He pulled up to a familiar building and parked his motorcycle. In the distance he could see a figure sitting on a bench at the far end of the graveyard. He limped over to the bench knowing that it was Thirteen, and she didn't flinch or move as he approached her. He stared her, noticing how tired and thin she looked. Her hair was limp and her clothes were rumpled and dirty. She was staring at her hands, the tears falling from her cheeks and into her palm, but she made no move to wipe them away.

Kutner's grave was about three rows away from there, so House's first assumption was that she was still not over his death. He had no other theories to think otherwise.

Sitting down on the bench next to Thirteen, House mimics her position as best he can. He stays quiet, unusually so, and waits for Thirteen to make some kind of sign that she recognizes his presence. But when she doesn't, he can't help himself from making a comment.

"You have a lot of people looking for you," House starts more kindly than he meant to. In a way his heart broke for the distraught woman next to him.

He's about to say something more 'House-like' to make up for his last comment when he notices the cuts on Thirteen's arm again. Her shirts ridden up her arm so this is a mistake again, for the second time he's seen them by mistake. They're newer than the last time, and there are more of them. The excuse Thirteen used last time didn't work then and it wasn't going to work this time either. She's a doctor, so she knows where to do it and where not to, she knows how much pressure to apply to make it hurt but not to lose too much blood when she does. House doesn't say anything at first, he'd rather start a conversation and then work it in.

"I need you back at work," House continued. "The British one and the short one keep bickering and you're the only one that knows how to shut them up. Plus, I have nothing to stare lovingly at….Foreman just isn't doing it for me anymore."

Thirteen flinched, the only movement she's made that's indicated to House that she was listening. "I can't go back to work." She whispered lowly, her voice cracked and broken. The words were so shocking that House almost didn't catch them. Thirteen seemed to shake as she said them, unaware of what her own voice sounded like and amazed that it was even coming out. House didn't know that this was the first time Thirteen had spoken in over 3 weeks.

"What because of Kutner?" House stared at her again, "That happened months ago."

Finally Thirteen looked up from her hands, staring at House with her eyebrows knit together and her eyes wide. The tears had been replaced with anger, and that anger was being directed at House. Deep inside, she was glad he deduced that this was about Kutner. As much as his death has hurt her, the fact that Anabelle was buried in the same graveyard as Kutner was working with her and she would rather blame this on him than what was really bothering her. But that didn't make his comments hurt any less.

"Go away House." Thirteen's voice grew stronger, but still raspy.

House leaned back on the bench, showing Thirteen that he wasn't going to leave and started to go at her again. "I noticed you've had a few more accidents with the can opener."

Thirteen quickly rolled down her sleeves and put them over her hands to hide the cuts. Even though she knows he knows they're there, she feels better hiding them from him.

"You know as a doctor, you should know better." House pointed out, trying to invoke some more emotion. "Does Wilson know about them? Seeing as you two are dating…"

Thirteen didn't say anything to confirm or deny the fact, and House was going to keep pushing it, just at a later date when he had assessed the situation more. For now, he was going to get her home and ease the minds of Wilson and Cuddy who were frantically searching the city to find her.

"Well, you can come see Kutner another day," House sighed. "I need to get you home before Wilson and Cuddy have conniptions."

Thirteen doesn't resist as much as she did when House tried to talk to her. She needed a little nudging and and hand to get her off the bench. House led her to her car, and to Thirteen's surprise, got into the driver's seat before she could. She scooted into the passengers seat with a little hesitance, but she got in and buckled her seat as House started the car.

As expected, the ride was quiet the entire way back to the apartment. House didn't try to pry, and Thirteen definitely didn't try to talk. The subject was closed, that was at least until they got back to the apartment.

When they arrived, Wilson and Cuddy met them back at the curb. House had called before they left the graveyard, and they were relieved to hear that she was safe and sound. Immediately as they got out of the car, Wilson put his arm around Thirteen and led her away from House. Cuddy followed, and so did House, as they walked up the stairs to the apartment. No one said anything until they were inside and the door was closed. Thirteen tried to run out of the room, but Wilson and Cuddy were firm that she stayed there. She doesn't pay attention to them, ignoring the pleads that she stays as she continues to retreat from the room. They seemingly don't notice that House is still there until he speaks up.

"I wouldn't let Thirteen out of my sight if I were you," He startled them all, Thirteen turning around to stare incredulously at him. "Check her arms."

Cuddy suddenly looks guilty, while Wilson stands there with his eyebrows raised. They both know what he's getting at and House becomes very interested in their reactions. Wilson steps towards Thirteen who has now curled into herself, the sleeves she was holding so tightly onto in the car now completely wrapped around her hands. She doesn't let Wilson near her, not even to touch her before giving House one last look and walking into her room and slamming the door. The three stand in the living room unable to say anything or move. Each of them mulling over their thoughts. Wilson stays in the position he was in, staring off at the door Thirteen had gone through. He turns to House, angry.

"Get out House," Wilson speaks to him firmly.

House doesn't move, "Seeing as it doesn't look like you knew, I don't think I should. You two are blind if you couldn't see those cuts on her arm, clearly you're just standing around pretending to care about her."

"Are you do?" Wilson started to yell. "Do you think that prying into her life, while it's clear that she's going through something, is a good idea? Leave Remy alone, House. Let this one slide for once, you're not helping anything."

"Defensive," House smiled smugly. "Maybe I was right about you two dating."

Wilson sighed, "This isn't a game House. It isn't puzzle you need to put together. We're trying to help Remy, and you're just getting in the way. Go bother your team or something."

"Thirteen is on my team," House retorted. "So therefore, you're giving me permission to pry."

The look Wilson gave House then that could kill, something he'd seen Thirteen do to him and Cuddy so many times. House wasn't fazed by it, in fact he enjoyed pushing Wilson's buttons and this only confirmed that he was getting to him. Yet, House dropped any counters he had, this was a subject for another day.

"Who's Anabelle?" House asked quietly. It had been a question he'd been wondering since Thirteen reacted to the patients name. That was why he was here, she had gone into a long, twisty, downward spiral after that. But he still didn't have anything to connect the dots. House had sent his team over to Thirteen's apartment soon after she didn't show up for work. He knew they had found something, but they wouldn't say. Up until now, the new case had distracted him enough that this was a side project he decided he'd work on when he had time.

House could tell from the reactions of Cuddy and Wilson's faces, that he had definitely found some type of evidence in this question. They tried to hide their surprise, but that was almost impossible around House.

"It's none of your business." Cuddy told House firmly, making it very clear she didn't want to hear anymore.

Pushing it further, House opened his mouth to say something back - he was close to the truth he could tell, and after a couple more spats back and forth, he would have his answer.

Bad timing (or good, however you want to look at it) intervened at that moment. House's cell phone rung and reluctantly he answered. Thinking they were in the clear, Cuddy and Wilson exchanged looks of relief and something else House couldn't put his finger on. Still, he tried to pay attention to what his team was telling him - something about a patient, and it being urgent. House hung up the phone and turned to his coworkers, he smiled and said nothing as he left the apartment and he could hear them sighing in relief as he closed the door.

Wilson and Cuddy stayed on the couch for a while after House left. The apartment was quiet once again, but their stomaches ached with worry. House had pointed out one thing they both had wished wasn't true.

Cuddy had experienced the shock Wilson was when she was told at the hospital, but a new wave of shock came over her when she realized that Thirteen had continued it. It had been something she put off, she never did hear the whole story so it could have been a one time thing Thirteen had done to relieve stress.

When Wilson walked over to Thirteen to check up on House's remark, Thirteen had shivered away and that had confirmed it. They worried that as they sat in the living room, Thirteen was doing something dangerous alone in her room. Silently, they got up and looked around the apartment. They had the same idea as they started picking off anything that was sharp from the shelves and cupboards. They walked together into the bathroom, after stuffing an armful of things into a box and putting it outside in the hallway. Their faces were the same when they opened the bathroom cupboard. Neither had noticed, but a little box was tucked into the corner of the drawer. Held together with a few rubber bands, it was just big enough to hold small sharp things and that's exactly what they found. Throwing that in the box, they searched the bathroom thoroughly before deciding they had secured the area.

By that time it was very late, and they had both had a long day. Cuddy gathered her coat from the chair with an exhausted sigh and met Wilson at the door.

"We'll get to her eventually James," She whispered at the floor. "Just make sure she's okay tonight and then we'll go from there. I'll see you tomorrow."

Wilson immediately went to bed once he heard the sounds of Cuddy's heels disappear down the hallway. He had knocked softly on Thirteen's door before heading to his own, and tried the handle but it had been locked. It was too exhausting to try and get her out of there, so he just walked to his bed and tucked himself in hoping that tomorrow would be easier.

Wilson woke up slowly the next morning, more surprised that he'd slept through the night than anything. He groggily got up from the bed and padded through the apartment, straight to the coffee machine. It was when he turned around to get a coffee cup out of the cupboard when he realized Thirteen was sitting at the table, curled up in a chair by the corner and in the dark. He jumped at first, almost dropping the coffee cup before he recovered and smiled at her. Thirteen gave him a weak smile back, continuing to stare at the empty cup in front of her.

He sat down at the table across from Thirteen, noticing that this morning she had a short sleeved shirt on. Whether it had been purposeful or not, Wilson didn't know, but regardless she had exposed most of the cuts. It wasn't as bad as Wilson had originally thought - there weren't as many, and they didn't look fresh. But he wondered where else they could be.

Meanwhile, House had arrived at work extra early. His plan was to sneak through the hospital and into Cuddy's office, something he'd done many times before, without getting caught. He knew that Cuddy wasn't going to be in for another two hours, and neither were half of the nurses that ran the clinic. The clinic was dark as he snuck through quietly. The door to Cuddy's office was locked, but he picked it easily and opened the door slowly - putting his head through the crack before opening it entirely.

As predicted, Cuddy wasn't in there. He quickly ran towards the desk and opened the drawers at the same time in order to save time. There were piles of papers to go through and he wanted to get the information he came for as soon as possible. After three of the four drawers, House moved onto the filing cabinet on the other side of the room. The drawers were locked, but the key could easily be found when he already knew the top hiding places.

When the drawers were finally open, House found what he wanted almost right away. The hospital employee files were labelled and ordered alphabetically and Remy Hadley's was one of the larger and thicker ones.

House moved over to the desk to read the juicy details, raising his eyebrows when he found out Thirteen was two years younger than he thought. Then skipping the recent mumble-jumble, House went straight to the pre-Princeton-Plainsboro that he was most interested in.


End file.
